


Princess Snowflake

by Teegar



Series: Short Stories Featuring Ensign Chekov [6]
Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-29 04:29:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17801066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teegar/pseuds/Teegar
Summary: Ensign Chekov substitutes for Captain Kirk as a Star Fleet's official representative at the celebrations leading up to the wedding of a planetary dignitary.  Although his duties don't start out as being anything more demanding than drinking punch and making polite small talk, things quickly take a dramatic change for the worst when the navigator finds himself in the midst of a violent military coup.





	Princess Snowflake

**Author's Note:**

> This story originally appeared in an anthology of Chekov-centered stories that I edited titled "Chekov: In Love and In Trouble" (To read more about that publication, you may see its Fanlore entry [here](https://fanlore.org/wiki/Chekov:_In_Love_and_In_Trouble)  
> here ). In fact, this fic was written specifically to round out that volume. I wanted one more "in love" sort of entry with some "trouble" to fit the theme I'd set for the volume. I'm pretty terrible at coming up with plots, so when you get to a certain point in this thing and you start to suspect that I might be leaning a little heavily on Shakespeare, you might be right. 
> 
> I also have to confess to some guilt concerning the character of Havner St. Michael. I have a specific type of dyslexia that makes it difficult for me to disentangle certain vowel combinations. I selfishly created the character of St. Michael just to practice that "ae" combination since I had a teacher at that time named Michael whose name I was always screwing up any time I had to write it down. I gave the character that name knowing full well from my outline that this person was going to meet a gruesome end. St. Michael in his short time in the narrative became so charming and personable I've always considered reviving him in some sequel with a cheery, "Oh, I wasn't so completely dead, dear boy..."

**Princess Snowflake**

  


by T.S. Taylor

"How are you enjoying the party, Mr. Chekov?"

Chekov struggled to swallow the morsel of Xmposian pastry he unfortunately happened to have in his mouth. Finding this impossible, he had to content himself with merely nodding pleasantly to the ambassador.

"It is such an honor to have the most highly decorated ensign in Star Fleet with us," she said, unsmiling.

The pastry stuck in his throat like it was made of glue. Chekov wasn't supposed to be here. Captain Kirk was. The captain had been called upon to serve as Star Fleet's official witness to the wedding about to take place between the powerful Cxiqulie and Mjamalian clans. Kirk probably would have been present if he had been required to attend only the wedding. This, however, was not the case. Xmposian custom for the culture of this region called for great pomp and circumstance to accompany state weddings. Official public ceremonies had been going on for well over a week now and the actual wedding was still another five days away. The _Enterprise_ had received a call to investigate a reported Romulan intrusion into the Neutral Zone. Feeling that he was more needed to see to that crisis, (Chekov reflected that it hadn't taken a great deal to persuade the captain his presence was required elsewhere) Kirk had sent the ensign in his place.  
  
The Xmposians didn't seem to notice the difference. They weren't very familiar with Humans and were not apt at distinguishing between individuals. Chekov was a member of the same species as Kirk, in the same uniform, and – most importantly to the Xmposians -- wearing the same number of medals.  
  
The Ambassador, however, was neither fooled nor amused by the ruse. She coldly watched the ensign struggle to clear his throat.  
  
"I'm so glad you're having a good time," she said, turning away just as he was finally ready to reply. "Have another pastry, ensign."  
  
"I..." Chekov began, but the ambassador was already engaged in another conversation.  
  
"Don't mind her." Havner St. Michael, the ambassador's assistant, handed him a cup of fruit juice. "She's in a mood. Three solid weeks of state functions can put anyone in a mood."  
  
Chekov accepted the juice gratefully. The cup, like everything else in the hall, was richly painted and extraordinarily beautiful. "I hope I've done nothing to offend her," he said. "I'm sure that if the situation in the Neutral Zone not arisen..."  
  
"...Then Ambassador Long would be here making catty remarks to Captain Kirk instead of to you," St. Michael replied, breaking off a tiny piece of pastry for himself. "Understand, Ensign, she is an ambitious person and sees this posting as a setback. Her specialty is negotiation. The Cxiqulie and Mjamalians had already resolved the bulk of their differences by the time we arrived. Her position here is ceremonial -- and as you see, we have an excess of ceremony to attend to on Xmpos."  
  
"Yes, I had noticed that." In the forty-six hours he'd been here, Chekov had already attended three receptions, two gift-opening ceremonies, a luncheon, two banquets, and a formal breakfast. He looked around at the same room full of elaborately-garbed Xmposians who had been at all the other functions making polite conversation to each other and wondered what they could possibly have left to say.  
  
"I think she views it all as a punishment." St. Michael smiled and broke off a piece of his pastry and handed it to Chekov. "I suppose that's hard for you to imagine, isn't it Ensign? Being used to life on a starship -- the constant duty, the constant danger -- it seems rather odd to look at going to parties all day as a punishment, doesn't it?"  
  
Chekov could see that St. Michael was subtly tutoring him again. If he took only small bites of food and kept a beverage at hand, as St. Michael did, he could always be prepared to speak in a matter of seconds. "I can see that one might tire of it quickly."  
  
"Yes." Without breaking his pleasant external facade, St. Michael gave a sigh that betrayed a great weariness. "I must admit, Mr. Chekov, I was somewhat surprised that a young man like yourself would volunteer to stay here rather than accompanying your ship to the Neutral Zone."  
  
"Well..." the ensign began uncomfortably. "I..."  
  
"I'm so sorry," St. Michael quickly dismissed the matter. "That wasn't a very diplomatic question on my part, was it?"  
  
"No. It is just that..." Chekov looked around cautiously for the ambassador. "As far as my volunteering to be here..."  
  
St. Michael looked as if he already knew what the ensign was going to say. "Yes?"  
  
"I happened to be standing near the captain when the order came in," Chekov explained, keeping his voice soft. "I needed his signature..."  
  
"And instead you got a week-long vacation on Xmpos," the attaché‚ finished for him. A genuine grin spread over St. Michael's face. He quickly hid it behind two fingers. "I had suspected as much. I hope this is also not an indelicate observation, but I must say that I am unfamiliar with some of the orders who have honored you."  
  
That was quite possible. Knowing the value Xmposians placed on display, the bridge crew had augmented his meager collection of medals with awards of their own devising. No one was likely to be familiar with the Scottish League's award for good conduct or the Iowan Union's one for meritorious attitude. There was even the Southern Cross of Valor -- which McCoy had award him for volunteering to wear a dress uniform for eight days running.  
  
"Some of them are somewhat obscure," he admitted cautiously.  
  
The arrival of the Dxinqul of the Cxiqulie saved Chekov from the danger of revealing any further information. Dxinqul was the title of a sort of an official herald or chamberlain for the Cxiqulie -- Chekov wasn't quite sure which. St. Michael had prepared a set of tapes for the ensign on Xmposian custom and protocol, but Chekov had been too enmeshed in Xmposian custom and protocol thus far to review them. The main duty of the Dxinqul at these functions seemed to be announcing the arrival of the bride elect.  
  
A respectful silence fell over the crowd as the Dxinqul made her slow formal procession to the main dais in the center of the room -- at least Chekov assumed it was "her". The Xmposians were humanoid and mammalian, but in formal garb it was hard to make the distinction between male and female. There was not a great difference in size between Xmposian men and women. Adults of both sexes tended to be around five feet tall. Their jaws and noses protruded from their faces almost in the manner of a dog's muzzle. Their noses were shaped a little like a dog's. For state occasions, they wore heavy multicolored robes and high headdresses. Their faces were painted with wild stripes of green, red, gold and black. The great domed reception hall they stood in was painted in great swaths and swirls of those same colors.  
  
The Dxinqul mounted the central dais. Reaching up, she tapped the ceremonial speaking bell suspended from the ceiling with one of her long, curving fingernails. Into the already silent room, she announced, "Mxinai J'ai'Han is indisposed. The cycle of ceremony is delayed until sunrise."  
  
An audible murmur ran through the crowd even before the Dxinqul tapped the bell to signal that they were again free to speak.  
  
"Oh, dear." St. Michael got himself another drink from a nearby cart. "Princess Snowflake must have thrown another tantrum."  
  
"Princess... who?"  
  
"The Mxinai J'ai'Han," St. Michael explained, handing the ensign another drink as well. "Princess Snowflake is my private nickname for her Serene Delicacy. She's really a wretched little brat."  
  
"Then why 'Snowflake'?"  
  
"Because hopefully she is one of a kind."  
  
Chekov was surprised to find the drink St. Michael had handed him was alcoholic. He sipped it cautiously thinking of the instructions Captain Kirk had given him.  
  
"Ensign," his commanding officer had said. "Stay reasonably sober and keep your mouth shut. If you find you can't do the former, be sure you do the latter."  
  
"What do you think has happened?" Chekov asked the attaché.  
  
"Nothing for you to worry about." St. Michael smiled wryly. "But perhaps a chance for Ambassador Long to exercise those diplomatic skills she's so proud of." The attaché‚ paused to watch the Ambassador pass by deep in conversation with a gaudily decorated Xmposian. "Yes, I'm afraid I'm going to be quite busy. But it looks as though you've lucked into some free time, Chekov. What use are you going to make of it?"  
  
"I'm scheduled to take the lieutenant's exam soon." The ensign surrendered his glass to a passing servant. "I have been studying for that during the few breaks we've had. Also there are the tapes you prepared for me..."  
  
"Studying? On a fine evening in the midst of the most temperate season of this climate zone?" St. Michael rolled his eyes. "My dear boy, is that any way to misspend your precious youth?"  
  
Chekov shrugged. "What else can I do? I'm not supposed to leave the grounds of the Ceremonial Complex. I'm supposed to limit my contact with the natives..."  
  
St. Michael smiled. "Oh, come now, Chekov. You're not that likely to cause a diplomatic incident, are you?"  
  
The ensign shook his head. "It would not be right for me to go against my instructions, Mr. St. Michael. Besides, when I think of the ship in the Neutral Zone..."  
  
"And your comrades possibly in danger," St. Michael finished for him. "Yes, that would tend to put a definite damper on things... All right, do your studying and then tonight after the Ambassador and I have finally done enough placating spoiled princesses for one day, I think I can come up with an acceptable diversion for you."  
  
"What sort of diversion?" Chekov asked, not sure how far he trusted St. Michael in this sort of mood.  
  
"If you are anything like any of the rest of your countrymen that I have met, I'd wager that you are a fine judge of what constitutes a truly exceptional bottle of vodka."  
  
That wasn't a bad bet. "Well..."  
  
"I happen to be in possession of three bottles of that marvelous elixir on which I'd like to have the opinion of an expert."  
  
"Three bottles?" Chekov repeated.  
  
"There's a roof that joins the balconies of our respective apartments," St. Michael said. "Meet me there at the second moonrise. While we sample some of that fine nectar of your homeland, I will personally tutor you in the strange ways of this strange land -- thus doing away with the need for you to listen to those tedious tapes of mine -- and you can look at the stars and thus review for your astronavigation exam. What do you say?"  
  
"Well... I suppose," the ensign agreed slowly. "But I don't know if three bottles is wise... After all, we will both have to be in proper condition to attend another round of functions tomorrow morning..."  
  
"My boy," the attaché‚ said, grimacing politely at a passing stream of dignitaries. "If what I think happened has actually happened, the condition either of us is in tomorrow will make no difference to anyone at all."  
  


*** **** ***

  
Chekov woke with a start when St. Michael laid a cold hand on his shoulder. The ensign had climbed up to the flat roof over the balcony of his quarters at the appointed time but had fallen asleep while he was waiting for his companion to arrive. "Mr. St. Michael.."

"Shhh." The attaché‚ moved his hand from the ensign's shoulder to his mouth.

Chekov got the strong impression something was terribly wrong. St. Michael was pressing his other hand to his side. His face looked strange in the moonlight.

"They've killed the Ambassador," St. Michael whispered.

Fully awake now, Chekov struggled up to sitting. "Who has?"

"The Cxiqulie." St. Michael sat back painfully. He now wrapped both arms around his side.

In the dim light, the ensign could see dark stains on the attaché’s tunic. "You're hurt."

"Oh, yes," St. Michael agreed with a little laugh. "I'm very hurt. They left me for dead, then went on to search for you. The Mxinai has been abducted or been killed... They intend to blame it on us."

Chekov unhesitatingly stripped off his tunic and ripped it into bandage-sized strips. "Why?" he asked, gently pulling the attaché’s hands away from the oozing wound in his side and quickly wrapping it in the shreds.

"Probably because one of them did it." St. Michael's voice sounded very thin. "No bride. No wedding. No peace agreement. That is, unless, a suitable culprit can be found."

"So they mean to blame her disappearance on us?" He carefully helped the attaché lie down on the bumpy roof tiles.

St. Michael nodded weakly. "And kill us so we can't refute the charge. That's the way things work with the Cxiqulie."

"What can we do?"

"I brought a tricorder and communicator from my room." St. Michael gestured feebly in the direction he'd come. "Get as far away from here as possible and wait for your ship to return."

"I cannot do that," Chekov refused firmly. "I will not leave you, Mr. St. Michael."

"My dear boy." St. Michael gave a half-laugh as he reached out and squeezed the ensign's hand. "I'm afraid I'm about to leave you."

"Mr. St. Michael..."

It was already too late. The attaché’s hand slid away from his lifelessly leaving Chekov alone on a suddenly hostile alien planet.

*** **** ***

  
Chekov wrapped the cloak St. Michael had left along with the communicator and tricorder around him to ward off the early morning chill and vainly tried to get comfortable enough on the big tree limb to fall asleep. The ensign had traveled all night, deciding it was safer to sleep during the day. Climbing up this tree had seemed like a good enough idea when no other suitable hiding places had presented themselves. However, he was too afraid of falling off his perch to let himself go completely to sleep.

Where was the _Enterprise_? What had happened in the Neutral Zone? Kirk had promised to be back in time to take his place at the wedding if possible. But not knowing how the situation of Xmpos had changed, the captain might not be in any particular hurry to return. Chekov wished he had the material to convert the communicator into a more powerful beacon. He wished he had a phaser. Due to the diplomatic nature of his assignment, the one he'd been issued had been locked in a sealed container in his quarters with strict instructions that it only be taken out in cases of extreme emergency. Unfortunately, in the actual case of an extreme emergency, the weapon had been completely inaccessible.

Chekov's eyes were beginning to close again when his tricorder began to beep insistently. He quickly retrieved the unit from the limb he'd hung it on and silenced the alarm. The display showed a small animal and a lone Xmposian closing on his location rapidly.

The ensign quickly gathered his equipment and started down the tree. He could hear the baying of the animal as he did so. While he was still a good six feet from the ground the creature bounded into sight -- not looking at all small.

It was a dog-like creature -- something like the Earth breed called chow. It was at least waist-high with white and creamy red fur. It jumped at the ensign, baring its long white fangs and making horrible noises.

"Go away!" He plucked a handful of fruit from a nearby branch and threw it at the beast. "Go on! Go on!"

An arrow whizzed past his head and embedded itself into the tree trunk.

"Don't shoot!" Chekov hoped his translator was working and would carry his voice far enough.

"Don't throw things at Nixzmi." The hunter was a high-voiced young man dressed in knee-breeches, gaiters, a long-sleeved shirt and a heavy vest that looked like it was made of brightly colored sticks. He wore a large gray hat that covered most of his face. The hunter gestured with the bow and arrow he had trained on the ensign. "Come down from there."

"I did not mean to trespass," Chekov apologized as he complied, careful to pull the robe's hood forward to hide his non-Xmposian features as he did so.

"Sit, Nixzmi," The hunter ordered as the ensign's feet finally hit the forest's floor.

The dog-like creature obeyed reluctantly as his master slowly lowered his weapon and stepped forward to push back Chekov's hood.

The ensign intended to use this opening to overpower the youth, but the boy's wretched dog was on him like a flash, knocking him backwards onto the ground.

"No, Nixzmi!" the hunter commanded.

The dog's teeth froze inches away from the ensign's throat. It continued to hold Chekov down with its forepaws and growl monstrously.

"You're Human," the hunter observed, sounding surprised.

The boy had lost his hat in the brief struggle. His white and red mane of hair stood out from his head. It was the same color as his dog. He looked a good deal like his dog.

"You're Cxiqulie," the ensign said, careful not to make any sudden movements that might anger the beastly cur on top of him.

"So?" the hunter asked arrogantly as he hastily retrieved his hat and jammed it back on his head, covering his distinctive clan haircut.

Chekov took as second to think about this. The young man recognized the ensign as being not simply an alien but specifically as a Human. That would indicate the boy had been with the wedding party. But the little hunter didn't seem to have expected to find him, therefore the boy most probably wasn't part of a search party.

"This is not traditional Cxiqulie territory," the ensign replied.

The hunter crossed his arms. "It certainly isn't traditional Human territory. What are you doing here?"

"I.. I.." Chekov cast about for a reasonable explanation and fervently wished the boy would get that damned drooling hound off him. "I was... camping."

"You were following me," the hunter accused.

The young Cxiqulie must be in some sort of trouble. Even with a peace accord in the works, there were still bad feelings between the two tribes. The boy's paranoia seemed to confirm this.

"I assure you that I was not following you," the navigator replied. "I have never seen you before and I do not wish to see you again. Now if you could possibly induce this creature..."

"Nixzmi, guard," the boy commanded.

Instantly the dog took a position at its master's side. However when the ensign started to sit up, it jumped forward barking viciously.

"If you move without my permission," the hunter warned as he retrieved a length of rope from his rucksack, "Nixzmi will rip open your throat."

The dog was clearly in deadly earnest about its part of this threat. The ensign resumed his former position. "What do you intend to do?"

"Tie you up so you won't follow me."

"But I'm not following you," Chekov protested. "At any rate you should not leave me bound and defenseless."

"Why not?"

Chekov had to admit there was little to stop the boy. "It would be cruel," he said. "I could be devoured by wild animals before I could free myself."

"Oh... Oh, yes. That is true." This pathetic appeal seemed to have an impact on the youth. He stood thoughtfully tapping his mouth with his thumb as he mulled the situation over. "Very well. Stand up. I will take you with me as my prisoner."

"Actually it would be best if you simply allowed me to continue on my way..."

The hunter snorted as he fashioned his rope into a noose-like arrangement. "Best for you."

This had to be the height of absurdity. A Star Fleet officer taken prisoner by a child and a dog -- never mind that it was a rather well-armed child and a particularly vicious dog...

"Young man," Chekov said, "you must be reasonable about this. I have said I was not following..."

The hunter stamped his foot angrily. "How stupid do you think I am?" he screamed.

'Slightly less stupid than I wish you were,' Chekov replied silently.

"Not another word or I'll have Nixzmi devour you on the spot!" The little Xmposian's amber-colored face flushed an orange-tinted shade of pink. "Now come here."

Sensing its master's agitation, the dog's growling went into high gear. Deciding it was best to humor them both, the ensign stepped forward.

The Xmposian had to stand on his tiptoes to try to put the noose over Chekov's head. "By Sacred Selene's holy left breast," the little hunter swore, grabbing the ensign's robe to pull him down within reach, "but you're a great tall brute!"

Chekov reflected that this was probably the first time anyone had ever had that complaint against him.

"Come," the hunter ordered tugging at the rope.

The ensign grabbed the noose with both hands just in time to prevent it from choking him. He couldn't believe the Xmposian expected him to docilely walk along at the end of a leash. "Wait. Where are you taking me?"

The boy pulled on the rope impatiently. "I told you. I'm taking you with me."

"Yes, I realize that is what you intend," the ensign replied, pulling back from his end. "I want to know where you are going. Are you going back to the Ceremonial Complex?"

"No," the boy replied adamantly.

"Are you going back to your village?"

The youth had to think about this a moment. "No."

"Then where are we going?"

The youth chewed on his lower lip contemplatively. He then seemed to come to a decision. At the hunter's signal, the dog jumped at the ensign's heels, nipping and growling.

"We're going camping," the boy announced, leading his little procession forward into the forest.

*** **** ***

"Aren't you going to give me anything to eat?" Chekov said at last.

The boy frowned around the piece of bread he was chewing. "You're being pretty demanding for a prisoner."

"You're not being a very considerate captor," the ensign retorted, not in a pleasant mood after fleeing all night and walking around on a leash all morning. The lack of sleep and food was beginning to get to him. He'd insisted they'd stop by this stream to rest. After some grumbling, the boy had sat down and commenced to eat a small packed lunch out of his rucksack.

"Nixzmi is getting his own meal," the hunter pointed out as he reluctantly handed the ensign a small piece of his sandwich.

"I'll be glad to do the same," the Russian offered, moving to remove the rope.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," the boy warned, biting into a piece of fruit. "Nixzmi has sharp ears. He might prefer to make you his lunch."

Chekov silently cursed the nuisance of a beast as he bit into the sandwich. The Xmposian boy might be a little slow, but his dog was frighteningly intelligent. The ensign had even toyed with the idea that the creature might be psychic. It seemed to know where he was going to move before he did. Chekov was glad he was wearing a thick pair of Star Fleet issue boots or he was sure his legs would be covered in bite marks.

While the Xmposian's attention was still focused on his lunch, the ensign surreptitiously consulted his tricorder. The youth had failed to confiscate either that device or the communicator that still hung from the ensign's belt underneath the robe. A quick scan showed that they were the only humanoids in a seven mile radius.

"What's that?" the boy asked just as the ensign was about to increase the sweep area.

"Ummm... This is a... a religious practice I must observe several times a day."

"Oh." The lie seem to content the Xmposian.

Chekov couldn't tell if the boy was completely gullible or merely incredibly self-absorbed.

"Good dog, Nixzmi!" The boy's miserable mutt trotted up with a small animal between its fangs. "You brought me supper, didn't you?"

The dog panted as it dropped the carcass at its master's feet and gave the ensign a bloody grin.

"Good Nixzmi! Clever Nixzmi!" the boy exclaimed, rubbing its matted fur affectionately. He picked up the dead animal and held it out to the ensign. "Here. Prepare this for me."

"What?"

"Prepare it," the boy repeated insistently. "Come now. You don't expect me to believe you don't know how. It's perfectly simple. You just cut off the head and the other bits you don't want to eat."

Chekov made no move to touch the dead animal. "If it is so simple, then why don't you do it?"

The boy looked at the carcass and wrinkled his nose. "I don't like to. Here, you cut off its head."

"All right," the ensign relented. "Lend me your knife."

The boy was inches from complying when he suddenly looked up into the ensign's eyes suspiciously. The Xmposian gasped and sprang to his feet.

"You great big stupid brute of an alien!" he exclaimed, stamping his feet. "How dare you try to trick me!"

"What did I do?" Chekov asked innocently as the dog fixed its evil little eyes on him and began to growl.

"You would have taken my knife from me and used it against me and Nixzmi!" The boy accused, his face flushed. "Oh!" he screeched, turning to kick a nearby tree. "What a complete fool you must think me!"

"Not a complete fool," Chekov assured him. That honor had to be saved for someone stupid enough to be the prisoner of such a dimwit.

The boy grabbed the dead animal from the ground and put it in his rucksack. He then snatched the sandwich from the ensign. "No more lunch for you," he snapped, pulling on the rope. "Come on, you stupid hulking alien. March! Nixzmi!"

Chekov didn't wait to be urged forward by the dog.

Hours passed as the group made their way through the forest. The Xmposian never slowed or paused for more than a second in deciding their direction. However, Chekov was beginning to think he was seeing familiar scenery. When he consulted his tricorder, he found that they were approaching a location near where they'd stopped for lunch.

"We're lost," he announced, slowing to a halt.

"What?" the boy demanded angrily. "What makes you say such a thing?"

"Young man," Chekov said, leaning against a stump and moping his face with the sleeve of the robe. "I am a navigator. I may not know a great deal about many things, but trust me, I know when I'm lost."

"Come on," the boy said, jerking the rope, impatiently. "Stop slacking, you lazy alien."

Chekov wondered if these sudden displays of temper were culturally reinforced or just a personal aberration of the Xmposian's. He felt on the verge of a tantrum himself. The sun was beating down on him cruelly and he felt dizzy from lack of sleep. He slipped the heavy robe off one arm.

The boy turned at noise. "What are you doing?"

"It is too hot," he explained, disengaging the hood from the rope around his neck. "I must take this off."

"But..." The boy's eyes grew very round as he watched the ensign fold the robe so that it could be tied around his waist. "You haven't got a shirt."

"Yes, I know." Chekov squinted up at the light peeking through the roof of leaves. "But I calculate there's sufficient shade to protect me from overexposure to radiation from your sun."

The boy only stared at him.

"Am I offending you?" Chekov asked, moving to untie the robe.

"No," the boy replied quickly. "Of course I'm not offended. We're both men. Why should I be offended? Do you think I've never seen a man's bare chest before?"

"I don't know," Chekov said, puzzled by the intensity of the youth's reaction. "Have you?"

"Of course I have!" The boy set out again, jerking the rope. "What a stupid question!"

Despite this proclamation, the Xmposian kept sneaking looks over his shoulder at the ensign as they walked along.

"Are you sure this is necessary?" he burst out at last.

"I told you, it is too hot to wear the robe any longer. However, if I am offending you..."

"You're not offending me!" the boy insisted, walking on. After a moment, he sniffed diffidently. "I can't help but think you terribly brazen, though. I mean, I'm hot too, but you don't see me taking off my shirt."

Chekov shrugged. "You're perfectly welcome to if you'd like."

"Ha!" the boy exclaimed contemptuously. "No thank you. You can display your great hairy chest if you wish, but I won't be caught running about like a wild animal."

"Listen," the ensign said, wearily untying the robe once more. "I can see that I'm offending you..."

"I'm not offended!" the boy shouted, turning around and stamping his foot. "I told you I'm not offended! Why should I be offended?"

In direct contradiction to this, the Xmposian had to quickly avert his eyes from the ensign's nakedness.

"Young fellow…" Chekov sighed as he took his tricorder and set it for perimeter alert, then wrapped part of the robe around it. "I am sorry, but I simply cannot go on any further. You may have your damned dog devour me if you wish, but I must get some sleep."

"This is intolerable!" the boy said as the ensign found a soft pile of leaves and lay down on it, using his robe as both a pillow and a blanket. "You make entirely too many demands for a prisoner. First you must eat, then you must drink, then it's too hot and now you must sleep. If we were in the Clan Hall of the Cxiqulie, I would have your head cut off for insolence!"

"But since we're here," the Russian countered wearily, "I'd have to cut my own head off for you. And I am too tired to do that just at the moment."

He fell asleep to the sound of the Xmposian stamping about and decrying his lack of character to the dog.

*** ***** ***

  
Chekov was having a strange dream. He was dreaming that someone was trying to comb his hair. It was such a realistic dream, he had to wake up to get rid of the irritation.

The ensign opened his eyes to find that he was lying in the lap of the Xmposian youth who was indeed attempting to brush his hair. "What are you doing?"

"Waiting for you to wake up," the boy replied, nothing in his manner betraying that he was aware he was doing anything in the least unusual. "I've had to do everything myself."

Chekov sat up. It was evening now. The sun had set and the boy had made a small fire. The dog lay on the other side of the flames, its head between its paws and its beady eyes on the ensign.

The boy got up and removed some cooked meat from a spit over the fire. "I even did this," he said proudly, holding the meat out to the ensign. "All by myself. It was more of a mess than I remembered, but it wasn't difficult at all. I saved the last of it for you -- even though Nixzmi wanted it terribly and you don't deserve it at all."

"Thank you." Chekov gingerly pulled a few pieces of the hot meat off the spit. It was somewhat overcooked and a little gamey, but edible. "It's very good. It was very good of you to save some for me."

"I know," the boy said smugly, throwing the last bit to his dog, who caught the morsel mid-air and downed it instantly.

Chekov looked at his captor carefully. There was something different about the boy. "You have cut your hair," he said, hitting upon the change at last as the Xmposian sat down and started combing his dog with the same brush he'd been using on the ensign.

"Yes." The boy ran his fingers through his shortened mane and smiled as if he was pleased that the ensign had noticed. "I thought that if a big stupid alien could recognize me as a Cxiqulie right away, a reasonably intelligent Mjamalian would certainly have no trouble doing so."

Mention of the Mjamalians prompted Chekov to make a quick search for his tricorder. It was lying near him and reported no other signs of humanoid life for miles. The ensign frowned. He wondered why there were no search parties.

"Is your god angry with you?"

Chekov blinked at the boy for a moment before he remembered what he'd said about the tricorder earlier. "No…. Not at present, at least."

The Xmposian nodded as he worked a piece of bramble out of the dog's fur. "You mustn't take it as a sign of divine disfavor that you're my captive. Nixzmi and I are frightfully clever hunters, aren't we, Nixzmi?"

The dog nuzzled its master and bared its teeth at Chekov. The ensign wondered how such a silly, spoiled little boy ever came into possession of such a marvelously well-trained animal.

"There," the boy said, putting his brush back into the rucksack and depositing it beside the dog. "Now that we're all presentable, it's my turn to sleep."

The little Xmposian walked over to Chekov and sat down. Quite unexpectedly, he plopped his fuzzy head down onto the ensign's lap.

"There," he repeated, snuggling close to the ensign's thigh. "You will watch over me and Nixzmi will watch over you. Nixzmi, guard."

The dog made no move other than to lift its ears. When Chekov opened his mouth to protest the arrangement, the beast growled a soft warning.

"Oh, very well," he relented with a sigh. However, the boy seemed to already be asleep.

Looking down at the sleeping youth, Chekov decided that he'd been too hasty in his judgment of the attractiveness of the Xmposians as a species. With his orange-rose lips slightly open and his long red eyelashes resting against his amber cheeks, the boy was quite... pretty.

'That was a strange thought,' Chekov reproved himself as he took out his communicator.

The dog looked up at the sound of the device activating and the Xmposian stirred in his sleep, but the communicator did not elicit any response from the _Enterprise_ itself.

'Where are they?' the ensign wondered, leaning back against the tree trunk behind him. 'The Enterprise? The Cxiqulie? The Mjamalians? Where is everyone?'

*** **** ***

  
The morning light playing on his eyelids awakened the ensign the next morning. He opened his eyes a tentative crack. Every moving part of his body felt as though it had rusted sometime during the night. He was still sitting in the same position against the tree trunk.

The Xmposian was already awake. The boy was busy cleaning up the campsite with his dog trotting at his heels. The ensign, not anxious to attract that wretched beast's attention, remained quiet.

The boy reached up and took his vest off the branch where he'd hung it. His wild hair was damp as if he'd bathed and his shirt clung to him slightly.

The ensign blinked at that shirt as the Xmposian quickly laced up the fastenings of the vest.

'Xmposians are definitely mammalian,' Chekov confirmed tohimself silently. Somehow he wasn't surprised -- there was a strange feeling in his stomach, but it was not surprise.

The dog chose this moment to notice his return to consciousness and bounded forward barking its ferocious morning greeting.

"Sit, Nixzmi," the Xmposian ordered, taking a shirt out of the rucksack. "So you're finally awake. I was beginning to think you did nothing but sleep."

"I'm... uh.." the ensign stammered.

"Here." The youth handed him the shirt. "This is one of mine, but you may wear it."

The Xmposian had wrapped St. Michael's cloak around the ensign sometime during the night. Chekov now pulled it about him closely. "Uhm... Thank you."

"Of course, it won't offend me if you don't wear it," the youth hastened to add. "Alone in the forest, two men like us may do as we please, but if we were to come upon someone else... well, it might create the wrong impression."

"Oh... yes.. Of course," Chekov replied, studying the ground in front of him.

"Not that I mind," the Xmposian continued. "I think you look quite nice without it, but we don't want to create wrong impression."

"Uhm... no..."

"There's a stream in that direction. You may go bathe yourself if you want to. Nixzmi will go with you. I'd go guard you myself, but I'm far too busy here," the Xmposian explained carefully. "It's not that I would be offended, of course. One man can watch another man bathe without any sense of embarrassment at all. But, as you can see, I'm far too busy to watch you."

"Oh, yes, of course," Chekov agreed readily as he rose.

"You will behave yourself, won't you?" the Xmposian demanded with a frown. "If Nixzmi so much as growls, I'll be there in a second."

"I am certain that is not going to be necessary," the ensign assured his captor, beating a hasty retreat towards the stream with the dog close at his heels.

*** **** ***

The Xmposian was packed and sat waiting for them on a stump when Chekov returned. "You're certainly slow," the young person complained. "Come here and let me put the lead on you again."

The ensign halted a few feet in front of the stump and folded his hands behind his back. "We need to discuss a few matters first," he said. "I am afraid you are not being very honest with me."

The Xmposian scowled and hopped off the stump. "That shirt is awfully tight on you. If you rip it with your big alien muscles, I will be terribly angry."

Chekov took the Xmposian by the wrists as his captor reached out to adjust the lacings on the front of the borrowed shirt. "To begin with," he said firmly, "you are a girl."

"How did you gue...?" The Xmposian caught this near slip of the tongue and jerked away angrily. "I'm not a girl. What would ever possess you to say such a ridiculous thing? I'm a boy. I've told you myself that I'm a boy. What proof do you have that I'm a girl?"

Chekov stopped himself, suddenly too embarrassed to make the counter-suggestion that she offer evidence that would conclusively establish her gender. "The dog told me," he said at last.

"Nixzmi!" the Xmposian gave her pet a shocked look. "How could you betray me?"

The ensign thought of leaving the matter at that, but the dog gave him a rather threatening look as if to communicate its displeasure at this slur on its good name. "The dog did not literally speak to me. I merely deduced your identity from your ownership of the animal. It is not the sort of creature a common person would own. It is the sort of animal that would belong to an important member of the Cxiqulie clan. It is exactly the sort of animal that might belong to the Mxinai J'ai'han."

The girl stepped back, her face quickly flushing the color of a sunset. "So you were following me!"

"Not at all," the navigator assured her. "I am as surprised to have met you as you were to meet me. The Federation delegation was blamed for your disappearance. The Ambassador and her attache‚ were assassinated. I was fleeing for my life..."

"The Ambassador and her man were killed?" The Mxinai frowned. "That's too bad. I rather liked her. She gave me the most delightful wedding present."

"They were killed because you ran away," the ensign pointed out mercilessly.

The girl shrugged. "That was the immediate excuse. There is a strong element in my clan who are greatly opposed to a pact with the Federation as well as this accord with the Mjamalians. The ambassador was always in more danger than she realized. Someone in the clan has seized on my absence as an opportunity to spoil our relations with both of our questionable allies."

Chekov stood and blinked at her for a moment. It was strange to hear the little person actually make sense for a change. He realized that this was probably the first time he was hearing her speak on a subject she actually knew anything about. "Then you must return immediately."

"Ha! And see my head along with yours roll across the Clan Hall floor? No thank you." She handed him the rope. "Put this on quickly. We must be well away from here."

"Wait, wait, that's another thing I wanted to discuss with you. Why aren't we being followed? I can't find any signs of search parties."

The girl thought this over for a moment. "If things have gone as you say, naturally there would be no search party for me. If they've put it out that I'm dead, it would be very embarrassing if I turned up alive. I suspect they'll send an assassin to make certain that doesn't happen."

She didn't appear nearly as frightened by this possibility as the ensign felt. "You anticipated such a reaction when you decided to run away?"

"I had hoped they wouldn't notice I was gone. I trained a servant girl to take my place. She must have botched it." The Mxinai stubbed the toe of her boot against the ground in irritation. "I was so stupid to rely on her. And you were so stupid to follow me."

"I didn't..."

"It doesn't matter," she interrupted. "Don't you see? They will search for you."

"Then why have there been no signs..?"

"Because this is Mjamalian territory. In order for the ruse of blaming my disappearance on the Federation to work, the party that finds you must be all Cxiqulie. It will take some time for the Mjamalians to agree to that." She walked back the stump and picked up the rope. "But soon enough a party of searchmen or assassins will slip through. Oh, you are such a trial to me! I should have left you tied up where I found you. It will be ever so difficult to protect you now."

"Protect me?" Chekov repeated.

"Yes." She climbed up on the stump and held the rope out for him. "Come on. I won't tolerate any more of your dawdling."

The ensign didn't budge. "If this is Mjamalian territory, is there a possibility you could seek refuge with your prospective in-laws?"

The girl's face turned bright red-orange. "NO!" she screamed sending her pet into a howling frenzy of agitation.

Chekov reflected that it wasn't going to take a very clever tracker to be able to find them. Any person with a good set of ears could locate them readily. "Why not?"

"Because," she screeched through her teeth, "then I'd have to get MARRIED!"

He folded his arms. "And that would be a bad thing?"

"YES!!"

"Why?"

"Because... Because..." the Mxinai sputtered. "It's none of your big stupid Human business why."

"I think it is," the ensign countered calmly. "We both face a horrible death at the hands of you kinsmen. I present an reasonable alternative. I think I have every right to an answer."

"You have the right..?" The girl straightened. "You have no rights. I am the Mxinai J'ai'han and you are my prisoner. You will do as I say."

The ensign shook his head. "We are in a crisis situation. I do not believe that is the most effective way to proceed.."

"Nixzmi!" the girl called.

"And I won't be intimidated by your..." Chekov broke off as the creature crawled toward him growling and baring its terrible fangs.

"Could you take off my shirt?" the girl asked as the ensign backed carefully away. "I don't want it ruined... Although that's not the part of you that Nixzmi will go for first."

Chekov had no doubt in his mind whatsoever as to which part of him the dog intended to go for first as it herded him back towards its mistress.

"Good dog, Nixzmi!" the girl said as she slipped the rope over the ensign's head. "We'll see if some old assassin is going to be any match for you."

*** **** ***

 

They walked straight through to mid-afternoon. Periodic scans with the tricorder still failed to pick up signs of any approaching humanoids.

"I would like to ask a question," Chekov began as the girl handed him a carefully wrapped sandwich from her rucksack.

"You may," the Mxinai replied regally as she sat down next to him on a log, "if you can manage to do so in a more respectful tone of voice."

"Why do you not want to be married?" the ensign asked without significantly changing his tone.

The Xmposian lifted her chin. "That's a rather impertinent question for a prisoner to ask."

"What were you so afraid of?" the navigator pressed, unaffected by her disapproval.

"Afraid?" she repeated, outraged. "I'm not afraid of anything! I'm a very brave person. Everyone knows that. How dare you suggest such a thing?"

The ensign made no response as he continued to watch her and eat his sandwich. At first the Mxinai met his gaze defiantly. After a few moments, though, she looked down at a twig she was rolling under her boot.

"The Mjamalians are strange people in some ways," she said at last. "They have some customs that are not quite sensible. For instance, it is their custom that the wife of the Dmajillian -the male heir apparent -- must have no prior knowledge of men. She is raised entirely by women. Her own brothers and father are practically strangers to her. Do you see how that is impractical?"

"A young lady who grew up that way might be rather nervous and uncomfortable around men," Chekov said slowly, realizing that when St. Michael had said that the Cxiqulie and Mjamalians had ironed out their differences, he was talking about events that happened years instead of months ago.

"I'm not afraid, though," she retorted. "I'm not afraid of you and you're a great big horrible alien man. I wasn't even afraid when you were running around with half your clothes off."

"Well... I, uhm.." Chekov felt himself turning an interesting shade of crimson.

"Now that I've been around you, I don't think I'd be so afrai.. I mean, I don't think I'd mind being around men so much. If they're like you, they're not so bad, but...." She broke off and looked back at the ground. "...About the rest of it, I don't know."

"The rest of what?" the ensign asked -- even though he had a feeling that he knew the answer to his own question.

"Things like... things like..." The girl turned and looked Chekov full in the face.

The ensign got the distinct impression he was about to get into something he had no business getting into.

With a look of complete resolution on her face, the girl leaned forward and pressed her lips to the ensign's.

Chekov reflected that it was always an unusual experience to kiss someone with an entirely different musculature -- That was as far as his scientific detachment about the situation went. The Mxinai's mouth was invitingly soft and sweet. He was amazed at how pleased he was to be kissing this bratty little alien who had not only been making his life hell but was quite probably going to make it many, many years shorter than it would have been had they never met.

"Things like that," she said, pulling away.

Chekov cleared his throat and tried to regain his composure. "Oh... so you mean things of... uhm... of that sort of nature?"

"Yes." The girl sat back and smiled at her own intrepidity. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

"No." The ensign had to clear his throat again. "It was not so bad at all."

With all the optimism of a scientist attempting to duplicate a positive result, the girl leaned forward and pressed her lips to Chekov's mouth again.

The ensign knew he should stop her, but somehow that thought just wouldn't turn into action.

'This could be considered in the line of duty,' he rationalized as he continued to explore her intriguingly shaped mouth. 'I'm merely helping rid her of her irrational fear of men. Yes, that's it. I haven't lost my mind. I'm doing this for global peace on Xmpos.'

Unfortunately, when he put his arms around the Mxinai, the dog chose to interpret this as an attack.

"Hush, Nixzmi!" the girl ordered, breaking away from the ensign long enough to throw her rucksack in the dog's direction. "Guard the sack."

The dog whined its protest, but obeyed orders as its mistress sat down in the ensign's lap.

"How did you guess I was a girl?" she asked, planting intoxicating small kisses across his cheeks.

Chekov smiled as he brushed his lips against her slim amber-colored throat. "I don't usually feel this way about boys."

The Mxinai took his head in her delicate little hands and looked into his eyes trustingly. "You must teach me everything," she said seriously. "I don't want to ever shame myself again by being afraid."

"There is absolutely nothing for you to be afraid of," he assured her, pulling her sweet mouth down to his again.

A few instants later when the perimeter alarm on his tricorder began to go off, Chekov remembered that there were indeed some very real things that both of them had need to fear.

"Oh, no," he said, grabbing the device. "There is a group of twelve Xmposians fifteen miles from here, traveling in our direction. They are carrying objects made of metal – probably weapons -- and accompanied by a pack of animals -- probably dogs like yours."

The girl, still sitting on his lap, opened her eyes very wide at this information. "You are indeed divinely favored," she commented, impressed.

"What?"

She gestured to the tricorder. "To be gifted with such precise divinations from your god... Your devotions are greatly rewarded."

"Well," he said, helping the Mxinai to her feet. "Some days."

"Don't worry." The Xmposian untied her bow from the back of her rucksack. "Nixzmi and I will protect you."

"No." Chekov shook his head and initiated a wider sweep of the area. "I think we should seek refuge on the estate of the Djamillion's parents."

A stricken look crossed the girl's face.

"I know that you're not afraid to go there," the ensign said carefully.

"No," she said. "Of course I'm not afraid. As you said, there is absolutely nothing to be afraid of, but... I'm not exactly sure where that is... I'm not exactly sure where we are..."

"Could it be a large stone dwelling ten point six miles east of this location?" Chekov asked pointing his tricorder in the direction of these favorable readings.

The Mxinai's mouth dropped open. "You are indeed divinely favored."

"Thank you," Chekov said, taking her hand as they set off and reflecting that this was probably the best compliment he'd ever had from a woman he'd just kissed.

*** ***** ***

  
"How far away are they now?" the Mxinai asked as they panted to a halt.

Even before the ensign consulted his tricorder he knew that their pursuers were close behind. He could hear their dogs baying. "Two point nine miles."

"And the Djimillian's estate?" she asked, pulling at the rope. The Mxinai's dog was now the one on the leash to prevent it from running to attack the dogs following them. It liked the situation as little as Chekov had in its place.

"Five point two six miles."

Their progress had been slowed by the growing darkness and their unfamiliarity with the terrain. Nothing seemed to impede the hellhounds behind them.

The girl took her bow from her rucksack.

Chekov shook his head, trying to gather sufficient breath to argue with her. "How many arrows do you have?"

"Five," she replied. "How many men are following us?"

"Fifteen," he reminded her apologetically.

She dug into her bag again. "Here's my knife. You take that."

Their fingers met over the knife's handle. She grasped his hand impulsively.

"I have never had such an occasion for regret in my life," she said, looking up at him sorrowfully.

Chekov supposed that was as close as she'd ever come to an apology. "We are going to be all right," he said, brushing her hair off her forehead. "Somehow, you will be all right."

She embraced passionately. Just at the moment he was about to suggest that they move on, a voice spoke to the ensign.

" _Enterprise_ to Chekov," it said, " _Enterprise_ to Chekov. Do you read?"

The girl backed away awestruck as he quickly unslung his nearly forgotten communicator. "Chekov here."

"Ensign, what are you doing down there?" Uhura's voice demanded lightly. "You're supposed to be at a wedding, not taking a walk in the..."

"No time to explain now, Lieutenant," he interrupted. "Two to beam up – Immediately!"

"Acknowledged."

"What's going on?" the girl asked.

"We are going to beam up to my ship."

"What about Nixzmi?"

"Oh, damn!" Chekov swore, taking out his communicator again. " _Enterprise_. Correction -- Two humanoids and one dog to beam up."

"And a dog?" Uhura repeated.

"And a dog, Lieutenant," he confirmed urgently. "Immediately, please!”

"Acknowledged," Uhura replied, then added, "The Captain expects a really good explanation for this one, Chekov."

The ensign hoped he had one as the transporter beam took effect and Xmpos sparkled out of existence.

*** ***** ***

The Mxinai made it through the transportation without losing her composure, but her dog had less aplomb. It barked and ran off the transporter pad in a frenzy.

"Don't shoot!" Chekov warned the security guard -- and then was amazed that he'd come to the defense of that evil beast.

"Nixzmi, sit!" the girl commanded.

Despite its panic, the creature obeyed instantly.

"Mr. Chekov," Captain Kirk said, entering the transporter room. "Why are you not...?"

The captain stopped dead. Chekov didn't know if Kirk did so because he recognized the girl or because dog was giving him the look of death.

"Sir," he said, stepping down from the pad. "This is the Mxinai J'ai'han of the Cxiqulie clan."

"Yes, I've met her Majesty before." Kirk gave the ensign a questioning look as he bowed slightly to the girl. "I am... very surprised that neither of you is at the wedding."

The Mxinai drew herself up to her full four feet and eleven inches of height. "The wedding plans have been sabotaged by members of my clan," she announced imperiously – although Chekov could detect a slight tremor in her voice. "Two days ago I.. took some time to myself to meditate on the upcoming ceremony. In my absence, members of my clan claimed that I had been killed or kidnapped."

"They intended to blame the incident on the Federation, sir," Chekov added. "The ambassador and Mr. St. Michael were murdered so they couldn't contradict the story. I would have been killed too, sir, had Mr. St. Michael not managed to warn me in time."

"My path and that of..." The Mxinai paused as if realizing for the first time that she did not know Chekov's name. "...this Human crossed by chance. We were pursued by members of my clan. He was escorting me to the estate of my husband-to-be's parents." She fixed a chilly gaze on the ensign as if warning him not to contradict or elaborate on her story. "Nothing improper happened between us."

"I'm sure nothing did," Kirk said, although the look he gave Chekov was much less than convinced. "Well, it sounds like it's imperative for us to get you back to the Ceremonial Complex and get this mess straightened out as soon as possible."

"Yes," the Mxinai agreed.

"I'll go with you and I think I'd better take Mr. Spock and an armed complement of guards," Kirk said, stepping the transporter console to give the necessary commands. "Mr. Chekov," he added, almost as an afterthought. "You'll be staying here."

"Yes, sir." Chekov carefully suppressed any reaction.

"Nixzmi, come," the girl ordered.

The dog trotted past the ensign and sat down on the transporter pad next to the Mxinai. It gave the ensign a satisfied grin.

"Human," the Xmposian said, extending her hand to him formally. "I am grateful for all the assistance you rendered me during this difficult time."

"It was my pleasure, Mxinai," he replied, coming forward to press his lips to her fingers. The security detail entered at that time, so he added softly, "Remember -- nothing to be afraid of."

"Of course," she replied, then after making sure the attention in the room was temporarily focused elsewhere while Kirk gave the Security officers their orders, she whispered back, "The rest of it... what we were going to do before we were interrupted... It's just more of the same, isn't it?"

"More or less," the ensign answered, feeling himself blush furiously. "It's nothing to be overly concerned about."

"Oh, yes. I see that now," the girl said, smiling her familiar smile of complete self-confidence. "I think that with practice, I may even become quite good at it."

Chekov was saved from having to reply by the Security guards who moved past him to take their places on the other pads in the chamber.

"We will beam you and this escort down to the main ceremonial hall immediately, your Majesty," Kirk explained. "I will follow in a moment with my first officer when he arrives."

The Mxinai nodded, looking very small but determined surrounded by the phalanx of redshirts.

"Ensign Chekov," Kirk said as the group sparkled out of existence. "I'm going to expect a report on this when I get back -- a long report."

"Yes, sir." Chekov prayed he wasn't still blushing. "Of course, sir."

Kirk looked at the recently vacated chamber. "I hope you realize what a very important young woman you were with."

"Yes, sir," the ensign agreed adamantly.

"Havner St. Michael always called her 'Snowflake'. I guess I'll never find out why now..."

"It was because he said she was unique, sir," the ensign replied, trying to keep any undue emotion from creeping into his voice.

Kirk shook his head as Mr. Spock entered the transporter room. "I certainly hope she is one of a kind, Ensign. I don't know how many more like her we could handle."

"Yes, sir," Chekov agreed, finally letting the sigh he'd been suppressing escape as his captain beamed down to Xmpos. "I hope so too."  


*** END ***


End file.
